Girl with a pretty face vs. A pretty girl

A very strange night to add to my list of very strange nights

I crashed this party with some friends including an old friend, Buckley, whom I’ve known for 14 years. He’s a decent fellow. The problem’s that he’s 36 and he still thinks that drinking to excess is somehow cool.

I crash a lotta parties cause I get along with everyone. But Buckley was a slobbering, augmentative drunk. Before I knew it, he was being tossed out by this group of guys at the behest of the birthday girl. It was a whole production with me having to get between them all.

Ugh.

Eventually, we got him into a cab and I walked back with Hazel and Kane to apologize to the birthday girl. I should mention now that the birthday girl has a pretty face.

Here’s the thing. It’s NYC. You can’t go two feet without running into a girl with a pretty face. They’re like a dime-a-dozen. I’m pretty calloused to girls with pretty faces. But as I’m apologizing to her, she’s apologizing back to me. She said, I’m sorry I was being so douchey.

This whole time, everyone is staring at our exchange because I think they all expected some beef. Instead, she and I are smiling and laughing, like we’re old friends. She said I came off as good guy and I told her that I thought she was just really all that.

As we’re talking, she went from being a pretty face to a pretty girl. There’s a very big difference between the two. Like the difference between gold paint and gold.

She invited us to come back in but I told her that we came back purely to apologize. We chatted a bit more before I gave her a hug that she returned. If things were different, I might have given her my number. Then again, the poor girl’s been through enough.

It’s not all the time that people’s insides match their outsides. My ex said mine don’t.